


Blood does not family make

by nurselaney



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Relationships, Established Relationship, Gen, Historians, Mentions of past forced marriage, Multi, Native American Character(s), Native American/First Nations Culture, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Undecided Relationship(s), Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding World (Harry Potter), mentions of past rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22755064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nurselaney/pseuds/nurselaney
Summary: The silence dragged, him staring at her obviously trying to figure her out, her waiting for him to continue. Finally, Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair.“Ms. Fawley, why are you here? Why did you ask to meet with me?”She placed her briefcase on her lap, opened it, fished out an old, worn, well-read journal. “Because Tom Riddle is not dead, not fully. He’s going to return, and I think he’s going to do it soon.” She slid her mother’s journal across the desk into the hands of a man she did not fully trust. “I’m here to help stop him when he returns. I need you to help me do that.”Cateline Fawley has felt the burden of her destiny from childhood. Her mother's visions are her inheritance and she feels pressure to rise above her father's sins. Harry Potter is the boy-who-lived, the Chosen One who must defeat Voldemort when he returns... and Cate is the unknown factor who is determined to make sure he succeeds.
Relationships: Charity Burbage/Original female character(s) (background), Charlie Weasley/Original female character (background), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (background), Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome to the story that has taken over my brain and will not let me go. This is a Harry Potter OC fic that has been on my mind for a while.  
Please note! While there is no graphic mention or description of rape/non-con in this fic, a past rape/non con incident is discussed heavily and will be mentioned several times as it has major bearing on the plot and the characterization of a few of the ocs.
> 
> I do not own anything you recognize, that belongs to JKR. I'm just fiddling around with it for fun.
> 
> This story is not finished, I just completed chapter four, but I will keep truckin along as long as the inspiration holds me. I plan to update once a month.  
Special thanks to Kaelma for being an awesome alpha/beta!
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this teaser of what is to come!

_ Saturday, July 10th, 1993, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland _

The young woman stood outside wrought iron gates staring up the path that led over beautiful green grounds to a primarily gothic style castle.

_ ‘God, that’s pretentious.’  _

She was begrudgingly impressed but there was also a sort of hysteria over the sheer ridiculousness of it. Granted, America had Ilvermorny, but she’d not been sent to Ilvermorny thereby skipping the strange experience of being educated in a castle.

Ilvermorny was probably just as pretentious.

She’d been waiting 10 minutes and was contemplating pulling the rope beside the gate again, when a tall, severe looking woman in traditional robes appeared in her line of vision. The new woman approached the gate at a steady pace and once she was within a few feet of it called out in a strong, Scottish accent, “Ms. Fawley, is it?”

Cateline Fawley adjusted her stance, moving her briefcase from one hand to the other as she replied, “Yes, ma'am. Cateline Fawley, here to see Headmaster Dumbledore.”

“Well, Ms. Fawley, I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.” The professor tapped the gate with her wand and ushered Cate through. “I’ll be escorting you to the headmaster’s office.”

Cate followed her guide up to the castle, eyes still critically observing the details around her. As they walked, the professor kept a careful eye on her as well. Cate wondered briefly what the other woman saw. Her accent was obviously American, she was on the shorter side of average height for a woman, athletically built with strong thighs and wiry muscles. Her jaw was strong and square, and her eyes were a dark navy blue. Cate wondered if this professor would recognize those eyes…

Focusing her thoughts back on her surroundings, she brushed her mid-length brown hair back from her forehead and tried not to be horrified that a  _ school _ for  _ children _ had  _ moving staircases _ .

Maybe she should have gone for plan B and tried to find a job in the British ministry instead.

When they reached a statue of a gargoyle, Professor McGonagall gave a ridiculous sort of password (what were cockroach clusters? Cate had no desire to find out) and ushered Cate up the set of stairs that was revealed.

Dumbledore was somehow exactly like his picture on that chocolate frog card she’d seen a million times. The sheer intensity of his aura however, nothing could have prepared her for that. 

He had a phoenix in his office, and so many books and instruments and portraits, portraits everywhere. She took it all in and then met the old man’s twinkling blue eyes. She didn’t even flinch when she felt his mind brush up against her occlumency shields. Cate smiled calmly even though behind her shields she was seething at the audacity of the man. “Headmaster Dumbledore, thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Ms. Fawley.” He said, eyes still twinkling. “Please have a seat, it is a pleasure. I’ve read your books, very impressive. Lemon drop? I must say, I did not realize there were any Fawleys living in America.”

Cate sat, demurred at the compliment to her past work, declined the candy, and then nodded tightly at the probe into her family. She’d expected this. Counted on it even.

“My mother was Isolde Fawley. She went into hiding in America after the murder of my grandparents during the last war.”

At the mention of her mother’s name, Albus Dumbledore’s head snapped up and his blue eyes were no longer twinkling.  _ So, the old man did know something about what had happened to her mother after the night her grandparents were murdered. Funny how he’d not bothered to do anything about it.  _ As his serious gaze roamed over Cate’s face, taking in the dark brown hair so different from her mother’s blonde, her dark blue eyes several shades darker than the light blue her mother inherited from her Bonaccord family, and her strong square jaw, Cate knew he was seeing someone else in her features.

She’d never seen pictures of the man responsible for her existence, but she had looked into mirrors all her life identifying all of the features that she did not inherit from her mother, or her grandparents. All of the features that mark her as his. She wondered what it must be like for someone who has known the monster that is her biological father to see those features reflected on her face.

“And your father?” Dumbledore questioned gravely. It was not really a question though. She could tell by looking at him that he already knew the answer.

"I believe you know who," Cate said, voice low and accusing. "Don't you." The old man's eyes were blue steel, boring into her as he nodded. “But, Headmaster,” Here she met his gaze, eyes hard, “I don’t think abducting a woman and imprisoning her while raping her repeatedly until she becomes pregnant makes someone a father, do you?”

There was a flicker in Dumbledore’s eyes and he looked impossibly old in that moment before he said softly, “No, Ms. Fawley, I do not.”

The silence dragged, him staring at her obviously trying to figure her out, her waiting for him to continue. Finally, Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair. 

“Ms. Fawley, why are you here? Why did you ask to meet with me?”

She placed her briefcase on her lap, opened it, fished out an old, worn, well-read journal. “Because Tom Riddle is not dead, not fully. He’s going to return, and I think he’s going to do it soon.” She slid her mother’s journal across the desk into the hands of a man she did not fully trust. “I’m here to help stop him when he returns. I need you to help me do that.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we receive a glimpse of Cate's family's past and present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story is going to have a lot of ocs. I have up through Chapter 5 written now and am working on chapter 6. First Saturday of the month (for my timezone) will be the update schedule.
> 
> Thank you to spiraling and hellobhav my lovely betas.
> 
> I do not own JKR's world, I just like to play in the sandbox.

_May 30th, 1967, Hart's Field manor, Berkshire, England_

_The aurors arrived in the early morning hours to find the stables and the kitchens ablaze, the panicked squeals of Roland Fawley's prized Aethonan horses filling the air, a dark mark looming overhead, and the manor torn apart. The Fawleys had fought well and bravely. Roland had been a curse-breaker in his youth before taking the family seat, and his wife was a renowned duelist from France. Still, Roland's body lay in the middle of the spell-damaged hall, nearly unrecognizable due to the curses that had mutilated his body. Melisende's body was further down. It appeared that she had been retreating to the floo room when Roland fell and had turned to cover the retreat of the final resident of the house._

_A final resident who was not to be found._

_It appeared that Isolde had not made it to the floo room, that she had been captured just outside it. Signs of a struggle and the lack of disturbance inside the room all pointed to an abduction just short of escape. There was not much hope that Isolde would be found alive._

_A renowned potions mistress, Isolde was not without her uses to the dark wizard that appeared to be gaining support in the country, but those who knew her knew that there was little chance that she would cooperate._

_So the fire was put out, the bodies of two respected purebloods taken to St. Mungos, Aurors Wood and Abbott dispatched to inform Roland's younger brother Randal and his family of the loss, and the news of the tragedy splashed across the front page of the morning Prophet._

_And a little over a hundred and sixty kilometers away in the Wilkes' family manor, Isolde Fawley awoke from her spell induced coma to find that hell was a windowless room decorated with greens and grays, mahogany furniture, and a man with cold, cruel eyes sitting beside her bed...waiting._

* * *

_Monday, July 12th, 1993, Hart's Place, Richmond Green, London, England_

It had been a long, exhausting conversation with Albus Dumbledore two days before. He did not trust Cate, she did not trust him, and around and around they went. Turning and turning, neither letting the other catch them out.

The thing that kept Albus from shutting her out completely was that she already knew most of the things he did not wish to share. She had given him one of her mother's journals, filled with what those not in the know would assume to be the ravings of a mad-woman but what insightful readers would understand to be a recording of some of her mother's visions regarding the future and the possible destinies that lay before them.

Isolde Fawley had been known for her potions work, a brilliant and creative mind, but she was a Bonaccord through her mother's side and that line birthed seers. Isolde had always had an affinity for divination, even though she had not pursued it, but her third eye was truly opened within her when she became pregnant with Cateline, her visions giving her hope for escape and an understanding that the child she had been forced to carry would be a rebel for the Light and would aid in the destruction of a future evil. When Cate was born, she had just been placed in Isolde's arms when a vision of her child, grown up and strong standing defiantly before her father, a mutated dark lord glaring at her, blindsided her.

And the visions never stopped. Always changing, always branching off into thousands of possibilities. "_Destiny is not firmly set in stone, it is a river that moves and changes with each choice made,"_ Isolde had said to Cate on her 16th birthday, just two months before she died. Her mother's many journals documented things that had happened, things that might happen, and other paths that had already been bypassed.

Now, as she stood in her family's townhouse staring at a box of her mother's journals, Cate ran a hand over her face and then looked back down at the letter in her hand.

_Dear_ _Ms. Fawley,_

_It seems I find myself in need of a witch of your caliber. Our esteemed Professor Binns has finally decided to move on to his next adventure. As I mentioned at our first meeting, I have read your published work and I cannot imagine a more excellent magical historian for the post than yourself._

_Your book, __The Might of Magic and __Übermensch__: A History of Grindelwald and Hitler and the politics of genocide._ _was a fascinating read. I have loaned it to our muggle studies professor Ms. Burbage and she is very eager to meet you. I also read your article in the Journal of Magical Education in which you advocated for __the __integration of muggle history into __the __magical history curriculum, which was very well argued__._ _I think you may be just what Hogwarts needs to revitalize its History of Magic course. It is always refreshing to have a new perspective when looking at curriculum. Professor Binns had been teaching here at Hogwarts for sometime, you see._

_I am well aware that magical history is not your only mastery and I can assure you that we will not allow your other talents to go to waste. Professor Babbling has expressed a desire to participate in a runic research project with her friend, Master Krishnav Tamboli. Should you desire_ _it__, the position of Associate Runes Professor is being offered to you as well. You would of course have less time for lesson preparation, but you would only be taking on the 3rd and 4th year Ancient Runes classes, __while __Professor Babbling would continue to teach the 5th, 6th, and 7th years._

_Please do let me know if you are willing to accept these positions. I will refrain from posting any vacancies until I have read your response._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Obviously, Cate had every intention of accepting. This was part of the plan after all. Acquire Dumbledore as an ally, get a position at the school, be poised to protect the Potter kid and all other students from any attack from Riddle. Convince Dumbledore to help her hunt Riddle's horcruxes. Possibly get the Potter kid to trust her so he'd be open to her helping him when the time came?

That last one was still under review.

Regardless, working in the Ministry was Plan B because it would likely put Cate at odds with Dumbledore upon Riddle's return and because the Ministry would probably be more of a hindrance to what she was trying to accomplish here. Mum had always said that the Ministry of Magic had been useless during the first rise of Voldemort.

Also, she really did love teaching…

But she was going to make him wait for it, no need to respond right away. Besides, she had other concerns at the moment. Cate nervously eyed the other letter she'd received from Gringotts. Her meetings with the London Branch goblins on her arrival had been… interesting to say the least. The number of magical tests she'd gone through to prove both her identity and verify her mother's will giving her claim to her mother's inheritance was quite high. Then of course the blood test had placed her in the position of being slyly asked by the chief goblin if she wished to claim her father's vaults as well. It had been almost 9 years since Cate last had an episode of accidental magic, but she'd almost lost her cool in that office. Instead, she'd simply gone very pale, leveled the goblin with a hard stare, and stated clearly, "No."

Before she'd left the building, the account manager had informed her that as the manager for the Fawley family account, it was his duty to inform the remaining members of her mother's family of her existence and circumstances. She'd almost tripped over her own feet in shock. All of her careful planning, studying her mother's visions, training with John-Dad, studying the British pureblood society power dynamics, and not once did it occur to her that she might have to interact with her mother's uncle and his family.

In retrospect, that was quite stupid of her.

Cate tentatively picked the letter up, turning it in her hands. There was another letter enclosed inside, from Uncle Randal maybe? Or perhaps his wife, Aunt Mariane?

She'd never had a large family. It had been her and Mum, and then it had been her and Mum and John-Dad. She'd used to beg Mum and John-Dad for a sibling, a brother like her friend Kimi had, until John-Dad had sat her down at the age of 11 and quietly explained "miscarriage" and "side effects of certain potions" and the fact that she would be the only child Mum would ever have, and she'd hated her biological father even more for taking that from her, from John-Dad who would never have a child of his own with his beloved Izzy, from Mum… Mum who would never know what it was to carry a child she wanted, a child whose father she loved…

She was startled from her borderline self-loathing thoughts when the mirror on the wall started glowing and a deep voice called out, "Catey? You there, kiddo?"

Still holding the letter in her hand, Cate walked over to the mirror and tapped it, smiling as the white glow faded to show the weathered brown face and dark brown almond shaped eyes of her step-father.

"Hey, John-Dad."

The knowing look in his eyes warmed her in a way that made her feel like she was 5 years old again, sitting on his lap. "Did I interrupt some deep thoughts, Catey?"

Cate blew out a breath and rolled her eyes, giving her step-father a wry grin. "Just trying to psych myself up for this," she said, waving her letter in front of the mirror.

John Cloud's fathomless dark brown eyes appraised the parchment in her hand calmly. "That your job offer?"

Cate laughed, "No, that's over on the table. I'm impressed actually, he's offered me the Magical History position _and_ an associate professor position in Ancient Runes. Wasn't expecting that."

John frowned a bit at that. "Don't take on too much, Cate. You know you can't afford to be stretched."

"I know."

"So, what's this letter then?"

"Mum's family has been told that I'm in England to claim Mum's inheritance." Cate said, watching John's face for his reaction. They'd never talked about Mum's family.

She shouldn't have expected a reaction, John Tahatan Cloud was the master of unruffled and unconcerned. "Randal is alive then?" he asked.  
"Maybe." Cate looked down at the letter, "It could be from Mum's cousin, Marshall."

John hummed in response. "Read it then."

Cate opened the letter carefully, breaking the golden Gringotts seal. When the enclosed letter fell out, a beautiful seal of dark blue wax catching her eye, she caught it in her left hand and held it up for John to see. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. "Start with the Gringotts letter, Kid."

_To Miss Cateline Morgaine Fawley,_

_Per our conversation on 7th of July this year, I have contacted the current head of the Fawley family to inform them of your arrival in England and your claim on your mother's inheritance upon the presentation of her legitimate last will and testament._

_Your mother's uncle, Master Randall Nicholas Fawley, and his son and heir, Marshall Hadrian Fawley, have expressed their desire to speak with you. As such, I am enclosing your great-uncle's letter addressed to you._

_Please send any response directly to your family, unless of course, you feel that my position as intermediary is still needed._

_In your family's service,_

_Ranlast Bargrott_

_Account Manager_

_Gringotts Bank, London_

"Sounds to me like that goblin is telling you not to be a wuss and stop bothering him." John said with a snort.

Cate smiled in spite of her rising anxiety. "Yeah, I could see the sarcasm in that last line."

She turned to set the Gringotts letter down then gave her attention to the other letter. Her name in beautiful calligraphy graced the front, and she turned the letter over to see the seal again. Fawley colors were dark blue and silver, the dark blue of the wax a reflection of that. The hart's head encircled by a laurel wreath completed the smaller version of the family crest.

"Better go on and rip off the bandaid, Catey," John said kindly. "No reason to drag it out."

She released the breath she hadn't realised she was holding and broke the seal. She felt like she was in a trance as her fingers unfolded the parchment slowly.

_Monday, July 12th, 1993_

_Hart's Field Manor, Berkshire_

_To Ms. Cateline Fawley in care of Ranlast Bargrott,_

_As I write this letter, I find myself overwhelmed with thoughts of your mother. We knew of course that Isolde was still alive. The family tapestry did not register a death date for her until her passing in '84. So young, our beautiful Isolde._

_When your birth registered along with the name of your father in '68, we understood why she had not returned to us. We thought her still in captivity of course, but once You-Know-Who fell and there was no longer an obvious reason for the two of you to be kept from us we began to wonder what had happened._

_I would like to meet with you tomorrow for tea at the manor, should you be so inclined. My son Marshall and his wife and children will be joining us. I would like to get to know you and hear about Isolde's life before her death._

_Please respond to let me know if you are coming. Tea is at 2pm._

_Floo address is Hart's Field Manor._

_Sincere regards,_

_Your Great-Uncle_

_Randal Fawley, Esq._

John let out a small sigh as Cate finished reading the letter. "You should go."

"I'm afraid to, Dad."

"Why is that, Catey?"

Cate tore her eyes away from the parchment in her hands, letting out a shaky breath. "He said the tapestry registered my name when I was born… and my father's." She paused to rub a hand across her forehead. "They know. They know who _he_ is, they know _what he did_, they _know_…"

"Catey. Look at me."

She did.

"What happened to your mother was not your fault. It will never be your fault. Izzy loved you." John's face was calm but his eyes were earnest and burning with emotion. "She always loved you, you were her daughter. Would she have rather things had been different? Yes. But she chose to keep you, she chose to love you even though everyone said she had a right not to."

Cate inhaled deeply again.

"I know you've never understood why she made that choice," John continued, "and I know you've always doubted her love for you. But she did love you, and I think she would want you to know your family, kiddo."

Cate turned to put the letter on the table and took a moment to press her fingers to her eyes to prevent the moisture that had gathered there from spilling over. "Dammit, John-Dad!" She turned back to the mirror, arms crossed in front of her and eyes rimmed red. "You know I don't like crying in front of people!"

John barked out a laugh, "Cate, I'm not 'people.' You will always be able to cry with me," he said, smiling softly. "Now, I gotta go. I've got a meeting with the tribal elders today."

Cate raised an eyebrow. "NCAI business or NAWC business?"

The National Congress of American Indians (NCAI) had been started by non-magical tribal elders in 1944 to monitor federal policies. There were about five magical tribal leaders in the organization, and John Cloud was one of them. The Native American Wizarding Council (NAWC) had been formed in 1887 in response to the Dawes Act and the changes that the non-magical government and MACUSA were forcing upon both non-magical and magical indigenous people. John Cloud was active in both his tribal roles as both a Lakota man and a Lakota wizard.

"NAWC business. There's been talk about why MACUSA hasn't addressed the ban on indigenous language spells that is still on the books when the no-maj Federal government has just passed a law that protects native languages." John sighed. "They haven't been enforcing the law against us using our own spells, not since the 60's at least when it was agreed that we would have self-governance, but it's still there. Why not remove it?"

"Well, I'll let you go then."

They exchanged a few more words, Cate asking him to relay her contact details to her friends, and then the mirror returned to a reflection of Cate's own face.

After an hour and a half of writing and rewriting her response to her uncle, she finally had an acceptance note that she was at least somewhat satisfied with. She opened the window at the back of the house that overlooked the Richmond Green and silently sent out a pulse of magic to call her familiar. When the American kestrel landed on the windowsill and gave her a questioning call, she attached the letter to the special message carrier on his left foot. "Alright Killy, you need to make sure you leave a nice impression on these people. We're related to them."

Killy gave her an affronted look as if to say, "Have I ever not made a fabulous impression?"

"I know, I'm nervous and it's making me ridiculous. Cut me some slack here, Killy."

The bird took off and Cate was left watching him fly away, wondering what kind of Pandora's box she'd just opened.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cate meets her mother's family and a decision is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you recognize it I don't own it. 
> 
> Hope everyone is doing well and staying safe. Things have been crazy for me, but I am now safely quarantined.  
Special thank you to my friends who have edited, proof-read and listened to me ramble about story timelines and plot threads for hours (Alex, Bhav, Ara, Kaelma)

_ Tuesday, July 13th, 1993, Hart’s Place, Richmond Green, London, England _

Cate stood in front of the fireplace, a handful of floo powder in her hand. She glanced at the clock on the wall. 1:45 pm. She had fifteen minutes.

She was trying not to panic, but the anxiety was climbing up her throat like ants. Cate closed her eyes and breathed in deep through her nose, exhaling through her mouth as she tried to slow her pulse. She turned to the floor length mirror on the wall to her right, anxiously smoothing out imagined wrinkles in her rose colored summer robes, adjusting the small locket around her neck, and repositioning the wide, white scarf she’d tied around her head to keep her mid-length waves held back. Her mind went back to when she was five years old and her mum had told her one of the few stories she shared about her extended family.

_ When Grandpa Roland and Uncle Randal were boys growing up at Hart’s Field manor, they had gone out to the pasture together. Grandpa was fourteen. Uncle Randal was four and so excited to be exploring with his older brother. _

_ They wandered into the bull’s pasture on accident and the bull came charging after them. Roland had gotten in trouble at breakfast and lost his wand as punishment so he couldn’t do anything except break out into a run and tell little Randal to run too. _

_ Randal’s legs were of course, much shorter than Roland’s and while Roland would later remark that he should have just picked Randal up and ran with him in his arms, he was too panicked at the time to realize that his brother was still too small to keep up with him. _

_ Randal ran as hard as his little body could run, running straight out of his trousers. Just as the bull had begun to bear down on him, he had his very first bout of accidental magic… suddenly appearing on top of the roof of the shed at the edge of the pasture. _

Smiling as she remembered how her mum had laughed, tears in her eyes as she’d told that story, Cate glanced at the clock again. 1:57pm. Might as well go. She tossed the floo powder into the fire. When it glowed green, she stepped in and released another handful, calling clearly, “Hart’s Field Manor.”

She stepped out of a large, ornate yet tasteful hearth onto a black and white marble floor. A golden clock on the mantelpiece struck two as she took three steps into the room. The floo room at Hart’s Field was large to accomodate guests arriving for the balls and dinners her gentry ancestors had held. The mantelpiece behind her was black and white marble as well, and the walls were a navy blue with silver candelabras elegantly spaced around. The Georgian style ceiling’s white plasterwork was charmed; the oak branches seemed to grow across, and harts, hinds, and fawns pranced in circles . The wall on the right was a floor to ceiling window that looked out over the green grounds and gravel drive that circled the duck pond in front of the manor. Standing in the middle of the room, facing the hearth with hands clasped behind him and face turned down and eyes closed, was a tall, slender man with strawberry blond hair and gold wire framed glasses. There was a hint of gray at his temples and there were crows feet at the corners of his eyes, but he could not be more than forty-five. 

At her entrance, he slowly raised his head and looked at her with bright, blue eyes — the same eyes that Cate’s mum used to level at her. 

“Well, cousin Isolde taught you the famed Fawley punctuality I see.” He said with a dry humor that Cate recognized from her memories of her mother. He stepped forward, hand outstretched to take her own. “I’m Marshall Fawley, your mother’s cousin.” He paused. “I’m… not sure how much your mother told you about us…”

Cate took his hand in hers, smiling up at the familiar blue eyes, chest tight with some unnamed emotion. “She told me about you and your parents. She talked mostly about her own parents, but sometimes the three of you made appearances in her stories.”

Marshall smiled, but Cate could see an awkward hesitancy in his eyes. His gaze behind his spectacles stern and thoughtful, he turned and gestured for her to follow him. “Father and Lucy, my wife, are waiting for us in the parlour.”

He guided her out of the room down a long hallway to the right, stopping at a door on the left just before they reached the main vestibule. He opened the door and ushered Cate in. She found herself in a bright, sunlit room decorated in lavender and sage. Here the plasterwork on the ceiling was also enchanted, but it was ivy and wisteria crawling across the ceiling in mesmerizing patterns.

The room was comfortably furnished with elegant Queen Anne furniture. A golden haired woman, dressed in light sea green robes that resembled a tea gown from the twenties, sat on the duet settee while the white haired wizard dressed in smartly tailored grey robes sat across from her on the other side of the tea table in a parlour chair. They both stood as Marshall and Cate entered the room, the woman standing taller than Cate’s five foot and three inches with a wry smile and a critical glint in her warm, honey brown eyes. The older, white-haired wizard leaned on his cane as he peered at her from behind thick rimmed spectacles.

“Father, Lucy, may I present Ms. Cateline Fawley,” Marshall said. “Cate, this is my wife, Lucy Rees Fawley.” 

Lucy reached out a cordial hand which Cate gratefully took in hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cate.” Her accent was strong and musical.

“Oh, the pleasure is mine! Thank you for inviting me into your home.” Cate hoped that the rolling nervousness she felt in her stomach couldn’t be heard in her voice. She tried to focus on the introductions and not the overwhelming desire to turn around and run for the floo.

“Cate,” Marshall drew her attention again, gesturing towards his father, “this is Randal Fawley, your great-uncle.”

Randal Fawley was white haired and red cheeked. He looked like the pictures of Santa Claus that turned up everywhere during the Christmas season. The eyes behind his glasses were bright blue and sparkling with amusement. He reached out a hand and took her face by the chin. 

“Mariane and I always wondered when Isolde would come home. I’m glad you made it back to us, my dear, even if she did not.” He dropped his hand, and Cate realized that he had greeted her without any of the hesitancy she saw in Marshall and Lucy. It was as if he’d known her all her life.

“Have a seat here beside me, Cate,” Lucy motioned to the other end of the settee as she sank down and moved to fill a tea cup. “How do you take your tea?”

“Just a little sugar, please,” Cate said, sitting down and watching Marshall and Randal return to their seats. She fidgeted a moment, trying to figure out what to do with her hands, before her mother’s training kicked in and she folded them into her lap, her back straight, posture perfect. 

The conversation began easy enough, Cate was asked about how she liked England (she was enjoying it so far), how things were going at Hart’s Place (there had been a few creature infestations in various parts of the house, but she’d hired a house-elf service to clear them out), and what her plans were.

When she told them about the position at Hogwarts, Lucy became quite animated.

“That’s wonderful!” She exclaimed, her accent even more prominent in her excitement. “I didn’t know you were a teacher, Cate. Oh, we’ll have to introduce you to Sully.” She reached over to the side table and picked up a small picture frame, her eyes warm with pride as she handed the frame to Cate. “Sullivan is our eldest. He’s starting Hogwarts this year.”

The picture was a typical wizarding photograph. Two boys, obviously brothers, golden haired and smiling, were playing with a rambunctious Gordon Setter puppy. Both boys had Marshall’s pale, freckled complexion and pointed angular features, but Sully had Lucy’s warm, brown eyes while the younger boy shared Marshall’s bright blue gaze.

“That’s great,” Cate said absently. “How old is your younger son?”

“Grim is nine, two more years until we’ll need to send him off on the Hogwarts Express,” Marshall answered.

Cate smiled, then looked up at him. “I think the fact that most of the schools in the United States are not boarding schools was something my mother was both grateful for and frustrated with.” She handed the picture back to Lucy. “Of course, we have Ilvermorny, the Southern Witches Academy of Magical Arts in Savannah, and private schools like Bayou Académie de Magie where I did my student teaching have boarding options for out of state students, but most students attend a state school.”

“A state school?” Lucy queried as Cate paused to take a sip of her tea.

“Yes, each state has at least one MACUSA sponsored school, usually located in the capital. Students use the floo to attend, and they continue to live with their families throughout the school year.”

“Well, that certainly sounds like the cottage schools here in Britain," Lucy said. "Hogwarts isn’t the only school here either, not that you would know it from the way people act. Oh, all of the old wizarding families — like the Fawleys and my mother’s family — send their children there." 

“And most muggleborns go to Hogwarts, of course," Marshall cut in. "A few alumni have donated to the scholarship fund for muggleborns and orphans over the years."

"Yes, the parents are told it’s the best, and they like the idea of being able to say that their child was chosen to attend a special boarding school in Scotland," Lucy responded. "To be honest, with the social climate the British magical community has had over the past century, having attended Hogwarts is their best chance at getting a decent job post graduation.” She paused to take a sip of her tea, then continued on, “But the cottage schools are just as reputable.”

“Are you a teacher as well?” Cate asked.

“Oh, yes, I suppose I should have said. I’m a primary teacher at the cottage school in Wales, Edevane Cottage School for the Magically Inclined. It’s located in my home village, Pant Mochyn Daear.”

“The rest of Britain refers to it as Badger’s Hollow,” Marshall said with a teasing smile.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “It’s a Welsh village with a Welsh name. You English have no respect.”

“And this was the sort of school you attended, m’dear?” Randal cut in, joining in the conversation.

“Yes, we lived in South Dakota so I went to the Meriwether Lewis School of Magic in Pierre,” Cate smiled wryly. “I hadn’t wanted to go there, of course. I begged to go to the magical council school on the reservation with my friends.”

“The reservation?” Marshall asked, confused.

“Yes, we moved there after Mum met John.” Cate took a sip of her tea. “Mum couldn’t marry again, because she wasn’t able to officially divorce…  _ him _ .” There was an awkward pause as she looked from the others to Randal, unsure whether or not she should continue.

Randal nodded for her to continue. “They know.”

“Right.” Cate grimaced, but continued on. “She couldn’t prove that he was dead, and it would bring up too many questions if she went looking, so she never tried. But she did fall in love with someone. John-Dad, my step-father, loved her very much, and they were both so happy. They made each other so happy.”

She put her cup down and started fidgeting her fingers in her lap. “His name is John Tahatan Cloud, and he’s an elder with the Native American Wizards Council. Lakota Sioux. They met when I was little and started dating after about a year of friendship.” 

She looked up, trying to gauge the reaction to her words. “We’d been living in Denver, but when their relationship became official we moved to Wakpala on the Pine Ridge Reservation where John-Dad was from.”

Randal raised his eyebrows, glancing over at Marshall as he said, “Isolde was in a relationship with an indigenous wizard?”

Cate took a deep breath and forced herself to keep a neutral expression. She’d been through this before. She’d gone to university in Louisiana with an East Coast pureblood daughter of a MACUSA senator. Cora-Belle Rappaport had been very demeaning about Cate’s “savage” step-father, and she’d gotten her sorority sisters to join in. If her mother’s family could not be accepting of the only father Cate had ever known, well, she didn’t really need them, did she?

“Yes. She was in a relationship with a wonderful man who was an excellent father to me. Still is.” She watched as Marshall and Lucy’s eyes met. Lucy glanced back and forth between Cate and Randal before turning concerned eyes back to Marshall.

Randal looked at her intently. “He was good to her? Good to you?”

“Yes, he made her very happy. He’s been my guardian ever since Mum died.” Cate smiled and shrugged awkwardly. “He’s my dad.”

Randal leaned forward in his chair. “Why didn’t they have children together? It’s just you, the tapestry would have registered if Isolde had given birth to more children.”

Cate looked away. “The potions Mum was given during her imprisonment had some long lasting side effects.”

There was a choked gasp to her left from Lucy, but Randal continued, “What kind of side effects? What happened to her?”

Cate hesitated. She understood that her mother’s uncle had been waiting twenty-seven years for answers, but this conversation was not one she wanted to have.

“You must understand, my dear, Isolde was my niece. My brother’s only child.” Randal almost sounded pleading. “I just want to know what she went through. Why did she feel she could not come home?”

Cate had closed her eyes, an attempt to calm her nerves and remind herself that she didn’t have to hide the truth from these people. She let out a slow breath and opened her eyes to meet Randal’s gaze. 

“I know you’ve been waiting for answers for a long time. But Mum’s imprisonment affected her deeply and I… I don’t know if our first meeting is the time to discuss this,” She tried to find a way to express what she was feeling. “If you could give me time, I  _ will _ give you your answers. Just not today… please.”

She felt Lucy's hand slide over hers as she clutched her robes tightly in her fists . 

Randal simply leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. “Of course, my dear. You do not know us as your mother did, and we have not had the pleasure of knowing you. We should allow ourselves some time to get to know one another.” 

He paused to take a sip of his tea, then said sadly. ” Our poor Izzy. I’m glad she found some happiness with you and…you said his name was John?”

“Yes, John Cloud.”

Randal hummed. “I should like to meet him one day.”

Cate smiled widely. “I think he’d like that.”

With that, the topic of conversation turned back to Cate’s life and education. Cate talked about her experience with student teaching at Bayou Académie de Magie (a private school in New Orleans), compared to her first year of teaching post mastery at the Louisiana State School of Magic in Baton Rouge the year before. Lucy mentioned that student teaching was not really required for mastery experience for those wanting to teach their chosen skill set in Britain. However, some of the cottage schools were discussing implementing a training period for new teachers.

Eventually, Randal stood up leaning on his cane. “If you’ve finished your tea, my dear, would you mind coming with me? I’d like to show you something.”

Cate stood and followed him into the hallway toward the vestibule. From there, they turned left, up the main staircase, and into a long portrait gallery that seemed to open out into a balcony that overlooked the front grounds. Cate noticed that she could see the duck pond in front of the main entrance.

Stage whispers from the portraits followed as Randal led her to the wall to the right of the door opposite the balcony. An elaborate tapestry stretching back to the thirteenth century covered the entirety of the wall. Her eyes went to the picture of her mother, young and beautiful and smiling without the haunted look that had always lingered behind her eyes. Her birthdate (February 15th, 1940) and death date (September 28th, 1984) were written in elegant calligraphy underneath.

There was a line leading from her mother to a scorch mark on the tapestry.

“I blasted the bastard’s mug off of it nearly as soon as I saw it,” Randal growled. “Couldn’t bear to see his fowl face smirking at me.”

Cate nodded, then grimaced as she followed the line that traveled down from her mother and the monster that abducted her to find that the last name below her own face…was not Fawley.

“We can change that if you like,” Roland murmured softly. “It’s a simple spell. The only reason I haven’t done it is because it requires a drop of your blood and some words said by you.”

Cate whipped her head up to stare anxiously at him. “Can we do it now?”

Roland smiled. “Draw your wand.”

Cate drew her wand from the charmed pocket inside her dress. 

“Impressive,” Roland said. “That is a beautiful wand.”

She held it up to the light, highlighting the beautiful hints of red in the wood and the twirling design around the handle, “Yes, it’s red maple wood with an unktehi horn core.”

“A what?”

“Unktehi, it’s the Sioux name for horned serpents.”

“Ah.” Roland turned back to the tapestry. “A drop of your blood across the name you wish to remove and then repeat the phrase  _ aversantium se a patre matrem eligere  _ as you draw your wand slowly across.”

Cate followed his instructions and soon her name on the tapestry read Cateline Morgaine Fawley, just as she had written it every day since she first learned to sign her own name. She turned her eyes back toward her mother’s picture.

“Why did she never come back? We waited for her.” Randal’s eyes looked sorrowfully at Cate.

Cate sighed, unsure how to answer. She had always found it difficult to think about her mother’s motivations as they had always seemed to boil down to Cate: what she felt Cate was supposed to do, what Cate should be. 

“I don’t think either of us knew the same person. I don’t know what she was like…before. But I do know that she wasn’t the same after.”

She was pinching at her wrist again, a habit she had formed young as a coping mechanism for conversations she didn’t want to have. Cate tried to subtly put her hands in her pockets so as not to draw Randal’s attention. She’d said earlier that she didn’t want to talk about this today, but she felt pity for the man in front of her.

“Mum was paranoid when I was little. Once she got the portkey to New York, she never stopped moving. By the time we got to Denver, I think we’d lived in almost every town along the Jackalope Express line. My first memory is of her packing up our things in Detroit so we could take the train to Chicago even though we’d only been in Detroit for a month.” 

She stopped to take a deep breath, eyeing her biological father's name and birthdate on the tapestry. “It took Mum meeting John-Dad for her to finally feel safe and settle down for a while in one place. She was always afraid _ he’d  _ find us.”

“And that lasted? Even after he was gone?” Randal had tears in his eyes as he looked at her.

“I think we both know he’s not gone,” Cate said bitterly. “She knew it too. Mum wanted to keep me as far away as possible until...” 

She turned to attempt to discreetly will away the tears that had gathered in her own eyes, blinking rapidly. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned back around to find that Randal was holding out a handkerchief toward her. Cate gave the elderly wizard a soft, watery smile as she took the handkerchief from him and turned around to dab her eyes with it. Cate hoped that she wasn’t going to start making a habit of crying in front of people. She couldn’t afford to look weak.

Once she was done, she took a deep breath and turned back around. “Thank you,” she said as she handed the handkerchief back to him.

“Now then,” Roland said, smiling back at her. “I know your mother is buried in South Dakota, but we did place a headstone for her beside your grandparents' graves. Would you like to see it, my dear?”

Cate felt her heart flip and rise up in her throat. “I’d like that.”

They returned to the tea room where Randal informed Marshall and Lucy of their plans. 

“Excellent, we’ll go with you if you like? The boys are probably playing in the fields nearby. I can introduce you to them if you’re up for it?

“I’d love that, Lucy.”

She followed her new family out to a small enclosed area near the fields that seemed to be a family graveyard. 

They passed by Randal's wife's grave first. Mariane Prewett Fawley had passed just two years before from Dragon Pox. Just past her resting place, Cate stopped.

Three graves, side by side. Roland, Melisende, and Isolde. She waved her hand and produced a bouquet of wildflowers. Chicory, queen’s gilliflower, wild sweet potato, prairie flax, and oxeye daisies. With another wave, she produced two more on her grandparents’ graves.

“Those are beautiful,” Lucy said.

“They grow wild in South Dakota. Mum loved the wildflowers in America.”

Randal clapped a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, Cate.”

* * *

After dinner and several rounds of exploding snap with her young cousins, Cate found herself at home looking at the letter from Dumbledore. She knew she needed to respond. The piece of her that wanted to wait another day was split into parts. One wanted to wait simply to make Dumbledore wait, a very petty attitude on her part but Cate never claimed to be mature about these things. The other wanted to wait because as soon as she accepted the position at Hogwarts, well, that would be it. It would be real. No going back. She would be in this.

She put the letter down and took out a sheet of stationary and a quill.

Half an hour later she was sending Killy off to Hogwarts with her acceptance letter. She’d had a long talk with Lucy about the differences between Hogwarts and other magical schools. From the sound of it, she was going to have her work cut out for her.

Better start working on the lesson plans early then.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see two great escapes, and Cate meets a potions master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello! Sorry, I was unable to post last weekend.  
We are finally getting into some of the plot for POA! Almost to the beginning of the third book, still got a bit of set up to go but will make it there soon.  
This is chapter 3, I have had this chapter written since January. I have chapters 4 and 5 written as well, but chapter 6 is giving me a bit of a hard time. With the absolute insanity that I'm dealing with in my job right now it's been hard to find the inspiration to write, but I've made some progress this past week.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE! There is a scene at the beginning of this chapter that features a non-consensual kiss.

_ January 16th, 1968, Wilkes Manor, Worcestershire, England _

_ The potions blocking her magic had completely left her system sometime in the middle of December. Since it had been confirmed that she was three weeks pregnant at the end of October, Saskia Wilkes and the house elves who had been charged with her well being had slowly begun to wean her off of the potions that had ensured her compliance and her fertility. Isolde had spent the last several weeks carefully practicing her wandless and silent casting.  _

_ She had been at Hogwarts with Saskia, only two years below, and that woman who had been her schoolmate was now her jailer and so-called healer. It felt like betrayal, even if they had not been friends. _

_ The plan was to wandlessly and silently dispel the silencing charm she was kept under while alone and call for her house elf, Cherry, who would be able to apparate her through the wards to safety at her mother’s chateau in Nice. Once there, she would figure out what to do next. _

_ She was currently waiting for her… “husband” to leave. These days the cruel monster responsible for her imprisonment and current state of health, seemed to find amusement in spending time with her…  _ reading.

_ Reading _ her  _ journal articles from  _ _ The Journal of Potion Innovation _ _ and, Morgana’s grace,  _ debating _ them with her. _

_ Granted, it was better than the previous pastime he would choose to engage her in. The one blessing of being pregnant was he seemed to no longer feel the need to do... that. She’d much rather him debate the merits of her suggested changes to the dreamless sleep potion to make it less addictive than ever have to put up with his physical attentions again. It was somewhat of a relief that he did not appear to have had any physical interest in her outside of her ability to give him a child. Still, that he would take pleasure in torturing her by forcing her to engage in conversation with him as though they were… friends? Or worse, the married couple he had compelled her to become one half of? _

_ “Isolde.” His icy voice cut through her thoughts, “I believe you are becoming distracted from our debate, my dear.” _

_ She forced herself not to grimace. “My apologies. I find myself becoming easily tired lately. The baby is growing quickly and Healer Wilkes says that I will require more rest as the child’s magical core begins to develop.” _

_ The man’s eye gleamed as he reached out and ran a possessive hand over her round belly, “Yes. Of course my child will be... especially powerful.” He turned those awful eyes to look at her. “I will leave you to rest then.” _

_ Isolde allowed some of the tension to leave her as he turned toward the door, only to stiffen again when he turned back to her with a diabolical grin. Swiftly he grabbed her chin and planted his lips on hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth, probing meanly. He bit down briefly as he pulled away to look at her now red, kiss-swollen mouth. With a smirk, he ran his thumb over her lips and whispered, “Silencio.” _

_ Finally, he left the room. She waited.  _

_ After at least twenty minutes had passed, she wiped the angry, humiliated tears from her eyes and looked at the clock on the wall. One hour until Saskia’s elf was due back. _

_ The moment of truth then. She could wait a few days more, but if she kept putting it off she’d never get out of here. Isolde raised her hand to her mouth and willed her magic to move. ‘Finite Incantatem, Finite Incantatem, Finite Incantatem, dammit…’ _

_ Finally, she felt the foreign magic over her mouth… break. She took a deep steadying breath and released, the sound of it music in her ears. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Cherry, please come here.” _

_ There was a crack as a small, middle aged, female house-elf apparated into the room. _

_ “Missy Izzy! Missy Izzy yous alive!” _

_ She hushed the elf quickly and whispered, “We don’t have much time, Cherry. I need you to apparate us to Alcôve de Sirène.” _

_ “But… but Missy Izzy, Master Randy-” _

_ “There’s no time to discuss it, Cherry.” She said, filing away the information that her uncle was alive and likely looking for her. “We must go now. We’ll talk when we get there.” _

_ Wide, solemn green eyes looked up at her, a bit reproachful but understanding nonetheless. Cherry reached out a tiny, slender hand and took hold of Isolde. Both figures blinked out of existence with another crack. The room that had been the young woman’s prison for a little over seven months, was empty and silent. _

_ An hour later, a house elf would come to bring dinner for the prisoner, only to return to the mistress of the house in a panic crying that the pregnant witch was gone. That elf would be killed, and Saskia Wilkes’ screams would echo through the manor for hours. _

* * *

_ 0200 Thursday, July 15th, 1993, Azkaban Prison, somewhere in the North Sea _

Twenty-five years after Isolde Fawley’s escape from Wilkes Manor, another prisoner in a different kind of prison would make his own great escape.

The black, grim-like dog was thin. Too thin, years of starvation taking its toll. His thinness was what made it possible for him to slip through the bars of his cell and wind his way down the hall toward the stairs that lead down, down, down to the bottom of the prison. As he padded down the hall, slinking past the floating hems of the dementors that had been his wardens for so long, a cackling voice drew his attention to one of the cells on his floor. Dark brown, almost black eyes glazed with madness met the grey eyes that didn’t really look like they belonged to a dog. A sharp, mad grin cut across the once beautiful heart shaped face and the crazed witch cackled out, “Naughty doggy, naughty naughty…” but then a dementor swooped down, drawn by the sound of her voice, and she shrieked and scooted away to cower in the corner of her cell. The dog who was not really a dog continued on his way, down the stairs and out onto the rocky shores of the island.

He dived into the choppy sea and swam his way to the mainland, one thought burning in the back of his animagus mind where his human personality raged.  _ “The rat is at Hogwarts.” _

* * *

_ 0900 Thursday, July 15th, 1993, Hart’s Place, Richmond Green, London, England _

Cate had just finished breakfast and was cleaning up the kitchen when the Daily Prophet owl delivered the morning paper.

She sat down heavily, a frown breaking across her forehead as she took in the headline  _ “Escape at Azkaban Prison! Dangerous Criminal Sirius Black on the Loose!” _

The more she read, the more alarmed she became, stomach churning and her breath coming short. Finally she dropped the paper and rushed to the bedroom to throw on clothes and brush her teeth. As she changed, she calmed down enough to realize that it wouldn’t change anything if she took the time to actually look presentable. Cate washed her face and applied a few subtle glamour charms to her hair as she was reminded of the words her mother had said to her many times during her teenage years,  _ “If you want to be treated like a person worth listening to, Cateline, you’d better look the part of one.”  _

At nine-thirty, Cate knelt before the fireplace and threw in a handful of floo powder. “Headmaster Dumbledore’s office!”

The flames glowed green and she stuck her head into the fire. 

“Dumbledore! Dumbledore, I need to speak with you!”

The headmaster walked into her field of vision looking worn, his eyes tired. “Ms. Fawley, I’d wondered how soon you’d be contacting me. Why don’t you come on through?”

A moment later she was stepping into the room to find a pale, thin man, all in black like he was some Johnny Cash wannabe, with greasy black hair and a sour look on his face standing in the corner.

“Headmaster,” He sneered, “Who is this?”

“Severus Snape, meet Cateline Fawley, our new History of Magic professor. Cate, Severus is our potions master, but more important for this discussion, he was a spy in the first war against Voldemort.”

Severus started, eyes wide at Dumbledore’s declaration, “Albus, what are you-”

Dumbledore cut him off with a wave of his hand, “Cate is here in Britain for the express purpose of preventing Voldemort’s return to power, Severus.”

After about thirty minutes of explanation, Cate realized that Severus Snape was probably one the most disagreeable people she’d ever come in contact with. ( _ “Your mother was having visions about how the Dark Lord should be defeated the whole time during the war but was too afraid of being found by the death eaters who held her prisoner and fathered you to actually come back and be of some use? How fascinating.” _ ) Having decided that dealing with his attitude could wait, Cate turned to Dumbledore, ready to discuss the matter at hand.

“Dumbledore, did you finish the diary I gave you?” Cate asked anxiously. “I think the section we need to discuss is at the end of that particular one.”

“I’m afraid I have not, would you mind finding it and reading it to us?” Dumbledore handed her the diary in question. 

She found the passage, quickly flipping to the back of the small leatherbound book. “It’s here, hang on. Alright, she says in order for Voldemort to rise again, he will need help. One of his servants will escape capture and will return to his side. This will enable him to reconnect with more of his followers who will help return him to a body. If the escaped death eater can be prevented from returning to his side, Voldemort’s rise can be delayed.” Cate shut the book and looked earnestly at Dumbledore, “Albus, my mother’s visions were of multiple paths, choices to be made that would either help in Riddle’s return or hinder it. This was one of the few that seemed to be a sure fire way of hindering him!”

“And now Black has escaped,” Snape interrupted with a sneer. “It seems you’re too late with your warnings.”

“Not necessarily, Severus.” Dumbledore said quietly. “I’ve been informed by the DMLE that prior to his escape, Sirius Black was heard muttering the phrase ‘He’s at Hogwarts’ over and over.” His blue eyes looked solem without a single twinkle to be found as he said, “It would seem Hogwarts is to be his first stop, and Harry Potter his first order of business.”

Snape scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Of course, blasted Potter would be the cause of our current situation.”

“I don’t think a thirteen year-old boy would be considered the cause of any of this. If anyone is to blame it’s the madman who just escaped from prison.” Cate said, frowning in disapproval.

“All of that aside,” Dumbledore interjected, Snape turning red beside him. “I have been informed by the ministry that, due to the threat against Mr. Potter, they have decided to place some of the dementors from Azkaban here at the school.”

“What?!” Cate shrieked as Snape groaned and hung his head, “Is your government out of its goddamn mind?!”

“Oh, well done,” Snape answered dryly, “You’ve been in the country all of ten days and you’ve already figured it out.”

Cate whirled on him in frustration, “Would you shut up?”

He glared at her. Cate was woman enough to admit that the look was slightly terrifying. She wondered if he acted like this with his students as well.

“I have given way to their demands on the condition that the dementors are not allowed past into the wards. They may patrol Hogsmeade and the surrounding areas, but not the school grounds themselves.” Dumbledore finished, causing them to break their impromptu stare-down.

“Don’t students go into the town? How can we trust that none of them would be affected there?” Cate wondered how much of the school medi-witch’s time was going to be spent managing symptoms of dementor exposure in their students. 

Dumbledore sighed, “Yes, the third through seventh years have visits to Hogsmeade three or four times during the school year. A few staff members are chosen to be in Hogsmeade during that time should any incidents take place.” He turned to Snape. “Severus, what do you think? Is that too much of a risk?”

“If you’d thought it was a risk, you would never have agreed to it in the first place.” Snape replied, frowning at the older wizard. “Just give us your reasoning, Albus.”

Cate raised her eyebrows.

Dumbledore looked amused for a moment before turning a serious face to Cate. “My thoughts were, Ms. Fawley, that we very rarely have Hogsmeade weekends. As I said, only three or four times in the school year. We can inform the DMLE and make sure that someone is there to keep the dementors away from the students while they are in town.” He raised his hand to stop Cate from interrupting him. “Furthermore, it is very likely that Black will have to go to Hogsmeade first. Either for food and water, or to find shelter from which he can plan his entrance into Hogwarts, he will end up in Hogsmeade at some point and I think having an auror and dementor presence in that instance would not be amiss.”

Cate opened her mouth to argue and then closed it with a sigh. If the students were rarely in town, then it seemed a worthwhile compromise. As long as they are able to keep the students safe on their Hogsmeade weekends. She wondered resignedly what year Hogwarts students learned the patronus charm.

“Are we all agreed then?” Dumbledore asked, looking between her and Snape.

Cate sighed again and nodded reluctantly as Snape shrugged his shoulders with a bored look.

“Good. Now, Cate my dear, I was hoping you might lend your runic talents and assist Professor Babbling and myself in boosting the wards when she returns from India next week. Severus is skilled in defense and we shall hopefully have hired a new DADA professor by tomorrow which will complete our staff.”

“Hopefully, you’ll have hired a more capable person than last year’s oaf.” Came the remark from Snape. “Lockhart was a disgrace.”

“I have just this morning sent off a request to an old classmate of yours, Severus.” Dumbledore said quietly. “Someone not only well skilled in the arts of defense, but also intimately acquainted with the workings of Sirius Black’s mind and his knowledge of this school.”

The look on Severus’ face went from confusion to horrified understanding to fury so fast, Cate almost had whiplash. “Albus,” He hissed, “You cannot mean that you’ve -” 

“I expect a response from Remus by tomorrow afteroon.” Dumbledore cut in.

Snape seemed to choke on what might have been some very creative curses before he turned and stormed out of the office leaving an exasperated Dumbledore and a confused and wary Cate in his wake.

“Well,” She said, “I take it they don’t like each other?”

“That is certainly one way of putting it.” Dumbledore sighed. “Tell me Cate, what is your opinion on werewolves?”


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cate makes a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello from the garbage fire that is the USA at the moment! Hope everyone is doing ok. 
> 
> A few things to mention regarding this chapter.
> 
> 1) I am introducing my version of a canon minor character in this chapter and I have made the brilliant choice OR drastic mistake however you want to interpret it of having her be from Newcastle. To show this, she is using some slang from that part of the country that I found looking at tourist websites and an article from the online UK publication the Chronicle live. If you yourself or someone you know is from Newcastle and can tell me how much of this is actually used in daily conversation, please do share. 
> 
> 2) This is going to be an OC and Minor character heavy fic for a while yet but once we hit Book 3 canon we'll start seeing more and more of the major characters.
> 
> Thanks to Alex for continuing to be a supportive friend and editor.
> 
> As always, I own nothing you recognize.

_ “Tell me Cate, what is your opinion on werewolves?” _

It was probably not polite, Cate mused as she left the headmaster’s office an hour later, and it was definitely a breach of Remus Lupin’s privacy that Dumbledore had told her about his lycanthropy. Not to mention that he had been a childhood friend of Sirius Black and James Potter. Dumbledore had told her a tale of four young boys, the best of friends and as close as brothers. The wizard had seemed very old and sad when he’d talked about how it had been such a shock when Black had betrayed his closest friends so callously, and Cate had felt sorry for the headmaster. For a moment, Cate wondered at whether or not Dumbledore should trust Lupin given his history with Black, but then felt a wave of guilt when she imagined how she would react if Kimi or Mato had done something similar. Such a betrayal could never be forgiven and Cate put aside her concerns. Desire for revenge could be a powerful motivator, and it must be hard to be the one left holding the pieces.

She did question how they would manage to keep the students and staff safe during Lupin’s full moon days, and Dumbledore had merely said, “My dear, Mr. Lupin was a student here for seven years, during which there was but one incident and it was because Severus followed Remus in an effort to find out where he was going. I can assure you that every precaution will be taken.”

Cate sighed and pushed the guilt of being a nosy gossip out of her mind. She still felt like she needed to send Mr. Lupin an apology letter for not minding her own business, but she was not going to feel bad about obtaining information that would be important for her overall goals. The most immediate being putting Sirius Black back in Azkaban before he could help resurrect any Dark Lords. She felt her stomach rebel again as her earlier panic returned. A few deep breaths and she calmed herself.  _ ‘It’s fine. There’s still a chance to catch him. You haven’t failed...not yet anyway.’ _

She would have to examine Dumbledore’s motives for telling her later. Cate was beginning to realize that for all her mother’s opinions on the man, he never did anything without a reason and she did not have enough understanding of the old wizard to figure out what those reasons were. Yet.

Cate wound her way through the halls, down to the first floor, following the directions Dumbledore had given her. She found classroom 4F, her classroom, and stood in the doorway.

You could definitely tell a ghost had been teaching here.

Cate moved through the room, pausing here and there before finally moving to the bookcase. She was trying to find at least one book that was written post 1930, with no such luck, when a cheerful, female sounding voice came from the doorway.

“Oy! But it is hacky in here,yeh? Did the elves not clean in here yet?”

A medium height, curvy, brown skinned woman with blonde dreads and sparkling brown eyes was grinning at her. “You know this is supposed to be summer, right? You’ve got at least until mid August to worry about all-a this.”

Cate shrugged, “I was told I was gonna have my work cut out for me. From the looks of things, I was told right.” She eyed a copy of  _ The Fight to Ensure the Survival of Wizarding Society _ by Alcides Gore, grandson of the minister of magic credited with ending the goblin wars. Gore’s book was known among modern magical historians for its incredibly biased one sided view of the rebellions that encouraged speciesism, used discriminatory language, and promoted a wizards first mindset. If this was what these kids had been taught… Hecate, help her.

The woman stepped into the classroom and started walking towards her. “No need to be worrying about it now, though. I’ve already got a workaholic marra in Severus, don’t go adding yourself to my list, mate.” Her accent was thick and fast, lilting in places, and Cate had to focus hard to understand what she was saying.

“What list is that?” Cate asked.

“My list of people that need to be forced to live a little.” She came to a stop in front of Cate, stretching out a hand. “Charity Burbage, I teach muggle studies. It’s a pleasure.”

“Cate Fawley. I’ll be teaching history of magic and third and fourth year runes.” Cate said, shaking Charity’s hand. “I’m not planning on being a workaholic, I just have a lot of plans to change things. Mainly for the history of magic courses. It looks as though this program has been in need of a reboot for a long time.”

Charity grimaced, “It really has. Merlin knows I find history fascinating, but Old Binns’ classes were torture.”

“I can see how that would be the case.” Cate said wryly. She waved her wand and sent about ten of the books into a pile on the desk. “I don’t suppose the school librarian would appreciate me using those as kindling, would she?”

Charity barked out a disbelieving laugh. “A book burner! I would never have guessed! Oh, Old Irma will  _ hate _ you if you do.”

Cate chuckled, “Just joking. I guess even the ramblings of old white, racist, euro-centric, wizard supremacists don’t deserve the burning treatment.” She turned the copy of Gore’s book over in her hand. “I suppose I can just turn them over to her and let her deal with them… you said her name is Irma?”

“Yeah, Irma Pince. A real cracker that one. Don’t even look like you might be the type of ne’er do well that would hurt a book!” Charity laughed. “If you plan on starting your relationship with Old Irma by giving her more old books to hoard like a bloody book dragon, you’ll be fine.” She gave Cate a severe look. “But you can’t take them to her today anyway. Irma’s out, gone wherever librarians go on holiday. So I hope you don’t mind if I do what I came here to do and get you to come with me on a tour of canny old Hogsmeade.” Charity grinned widely, holding out her hand as if extending an invitation.

Cate felt decidedly overwhelmed. Like she’d been stampeded by a herd of buffalo. She got the impression that this was the way most people felt upon meeting Charity. “Is that why you’re here? To take me out to Hogsmeade? How did you even know I was here?” She asked incredulously.

“Dumbledore told me.” Charity replied, waving her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Floo’d me after you left his office earlier. I’ve been gagging to meet ya since he gave me your Grindelwald book and told me he was hiring you. I read that fantastic thing in two days, and I’ll have you know I’m not a fast reader.”

Charity turned and walked toward the door tossing a casual, “Haway then lass, let’s go.” over her shoulder. Cate took a long look at the teacher’s desk, the dusty bookshelves, and then hurried to catch up with her new coworker.

* * *

They spent the entire morning out, Charity dragging her into every building in Hogsmeade that wasn’t a private home (and a few that were) and introducing Cate to a lot of people whose names she was not going to remember. 

They started at the little cottage Charity rented on the outskirts of the main village. “Did you grow up here?” Cate asked, feeling a little surprised. 

“No!” Charity said with a surprised laugh. “Do I sound Scottish to you? This is a Geordie accent, luv, I’m from Newcastle.”

Cate just stared blankly at her before saying, “I’m American, Charity. The only thing I know for sure about your accent is that I can barely understand what you’re saying half the time.”

From there they had gone to Honeydukes, where Cate spotted the infamous cockroach clusters and other horrors. “Please tell me those are not actually made with blood,” she’d said, staring at the blood pops display. 

“Oh, for the love of Circe, Cate, those are for  _ vampires _ !” Charity had replied exasperatedly, pointing at the sign declaring that this section of sweets was for those with ‘unusual tastes.’ “ _ We’re _ not meant to eat them.” 

Cate was still not convinced. “What do you British magicals have against plain old, non-magical chocolate?”

“Do you not get  _ any _ magical sweets in America?” Charity asked in a frustrated tone. 

Cate shrugged, “I mean, we  _ do. _ You can find chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts beans in most of your larger magical communities. One of the owners of Hershey's family members was a muggleborn so their company branched out into the magical chocolates field in the 50’s. So many of the magicals in the Americas are muggleborn or half-blood with connections to the no-maj world, though; most people don’t see a point in marketing magical candies when you can market non-magical candy and sell to both magicals and no-maj alike.”

Charity opened her mouth as if to say something and then sighed and walked out of the store.

After that, they’d gone to a place called Zonkos. (“Familiarize yourself with everything in here, you’re going to be confiscating a lot of these products. We’ve got several students who consider themselves to be professional pranksters.”) Next, Dervish and Banges where Cate was told she could get magical equipment or have her own repaired. The saccharinely sweet looking cafe that declared itself to be Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Room was given a wide berth and Cate was told to “never step foot in that place. Just do yourself a goddamned favor and don’t go in.”

She was introduced to Dumbledore’s brother, a grouchy old wizard whose grey hair still had a few hints of red at the temples. She wondered if that meant Dumbledore had also been a redhead in his youth. “Ol’ Abe” as Charity called the man, owned a horrifically dirty, run down pub on the edge of town called The Hog’s Head, which Charity assured her she would be drinking at once school visits to Hogsmeade started. “The kiddies swarm the damn Broomsticks every Hogsmeade weekend, you’ll be gannin’ somewhere else for a drink then, trust me.”

After a brief view of the Shrieking Shack, which Cate had heard about from Dumbledore earlier that morning, an introduction to the wizard couple that ran Gladrags Wizardwear, and a peak at the post office and Scrivenshaft’s Quill shop, Charity had turned and rubbed her hands together grinning madly as she said, “I saved the best for last. You hungry?” 

Cate then found herself being dragged into a pub that declared itself to be the Three Broomsticks a few minutes later. As Charity pulled her to the bar, Cate swept her eyes over the mostly full pub. It was certainly a heck of a lot cleaner than Abe’s place.

“Rosie!” Charity called out, “C’mere so I can introduce ya.”

A short, curvy woman who seemed to be in her late forties with curly graying hair and a bright smile walked over to them and leaned over the bar. “Charity, who’s your friend?”

“Rosie, this is Cate Fawley, Hogwarts’ new History of Magic professor.” Charity waved dramatically in the direction of the newcomer. “Cate, this is Madam Rosmerta, owner of the Three Broomsticks and undoubtedly the most important person in Hogsmeade.”

Rosmerta shot a quiet stinging hex at Charity’s bum. “Go on with you, you silly thing. Cate dear, it’s lovely to meet you. Shall I get you a butterbeer? On the house for our new professor. “ She winked cheerfully at Cate.

“That sounds great, thank you!” 

“We were also looking to get food, Rosie,” Charity chimed in, still rubbing her backside. “Took Cate here on a tour of Hogsmeade and now we’re clammin’ for some scran, aye, Cate?”

“I have no idea what you just said, but if you meant we’re starving then I’ll agree,” Cate deadpanned.

After two butterbeers and a beef pasty a piece, Cate felt full and content as she laughed at Rosmerta and Charity’s stories about different student shenanigans that had occured during Hogsmeade weekends.

“Ya know, Rosie here was a very important part of my sexual awakening,” Charity said mischievously. “Same probably can be said for a lot of students, I mean have ya seen her? She’s geet lush, right?” 

Rosmerta scoffed. “What would that girl of your’s say if she heard you talking so?”

“Oy, Marcy’d agree with me!” Charity laughed loudly, waving her hands about. “When we first started dating, a group of us from Hogwarts were having a propa neet out, about ten of us ya see, and the topic of first crushes came up.” She waved her hands wildly in a circle, “Over half of us, myself and Marcy included, said your name.”

Rosmerta scoffed again, but Cate could tell that she was both aware of and amused by the impression she left on the younger crowd.

“So, there I was a wee third year, only just turned thirteen that summer and starting to feel like I might be interested in lasses instead of lads.” Charity took a long swig of her drink and continued, “First Hogsmeade weekend came around and I got my first look at Rosie here… that was the moment I knew. I was a follower of Sappho, no mistake about it.”

Cate smiled. “And Marcy is your girlfriend’s name? You met her at Hogwarts then?”

Charity looked pleased, her cheeks flushing a bit as she replied, “Aye, Marcy Sykes, but she’s about seven years younger than me so I’d already graduated from Hogwarts when she started. We met after, through mutual acquaintances. We’ve been dating for about two years now.”

Rosmerta cut in, “Where’s she been this week, Charity? I haven’t seen her around.”

The younger woman groaned and let her head fall to the bar in front of her. “She’s been in Ireland. The Harpies have been playing the Kestrels.” She glanced over at Cate and explained quickly, “Wor lass is a quidditch player, beater for the Holyhead Harpies. She lives with me here and apparates to practices during the season.” Charity turned back to Rosmerta with a sad puppy-faced look. “Rosie, I’m so lonely without her, what am I gonna do?”

“Write her an owl and listen to her games on the wireless and cheer her on like a good girlfriend should,” Rosmerta replied briskly. “And when she comes home, you treat her to flowers, chocolates, and good wine and tell her how much you missed her.”

“When is she coming back?” Cate asked, “I’d like to meet her.”

“Saturday, she’ll be back for just two days then she’ll go again on Monday. The team is going to Northern Ireland next to play the Bats, then they’ve got an exhibition game in America. She’ll be gone the whole week.” Charity sighed. “She’s going to have two weeks off in August, we’re planning on going on vacation together then.”

“Oh, she’s playing in the exhibition? We call that the annual ‘let’s remind the American wizarding community that quidditch is the real magical sport’ event. They’re trying to revive the sport in the US because interest pretty much died out there when quadpot became popular.” Cate took a sip of her drink. “Quidditch is played a lot in the Native American communities, though, because the indigenous wizards already had a similar sport they played. But enough about that, you said you’re going on vacation with her in August?”

Charity smiled. “Yeah, we’re thinking of going to the Faroe Islands. That or the Alps.”

“Well, in that case, we should probably get our lesson planning done next week.” Cate grinned at the disgruntled look Charity gave her. “You don’t want to be lesson planning while she’s home with you, do you? We get our lesson planning done, then you and I are both free to do as we please. Well,” she paused with a grimace, “you’ll probably be done before I am. I’m starting from scratch with the history of magic plans and that’s going to take a while.”

“Tell you what.” Charity set her mug down. “We work on our lesson planning next week. Spend a couple of hours every day, then after we do something fun. I still plan on showing you around magical and muggle Britain, yeah? Then after next week you'll be free to bury yourself in work as you like.” She held her hand out. “Deal?”

Cate shook her hand. “Deal.”

“Alright then! I’ll have to think of what I want to show you… You might find some of the old wizarding villages interesting. Godric’s Hollow is a big tourist spot although it’s a bit weird to go and stare at the house where the parents of one of our students were murdered…” Charity trailed off looking contemplative. Cate grimaced and took a long sip. Morbid tourism was definitely not her thing, and that particular location was…not something she wanted to experience. Especially not with someone else.

“Oh! I know, do you like muggle music?” Charity startled Cate with her sudden outburst. “Only, it’s been a long time since I’ve been to a muggle music concert and I do enjoy them. Of course, if you’d rather go to a wizarding concert, the Weird Sisters are playing in Manchester next week and a few people I know are going.”

“I’ve never really listened to much European wizarding music. My mum loved a few of the older artists like Celestina Warbeck, and I grew up hearing those artists and the American ones. Buffy Sainte-Marie is very popular, and my step-dad loved Hendrix, but they’re crossover artists. Magicals who made names for themselves in non-magical music. I wouldn’t mind doing either, though, honestly. When did you go to a muggle concert?” 

Charity grinned. “Oh it was back in eighty-five I think? I was twenty seven, doing my immersion period for my mastery, living like a muggle for two years. Wasn’t so bad for me, my dad’s muggleborn so I was pretty familiar with a lot of muggle culture anyway.”

Cate smiled. “What band was it?”

“Oh it was several of them! Loads of bands. I recognized Queen, of course, because my cousin was right mad about them, but I didn’t know who half of the others were.” Charity paused, brow furrowed, “I think it was out in Wibbley? No Wembley, that’s the place.”

Wembley Stadium. 1985. Queen and a load of other bands. She couldn’t have possibly meant…  _ holy shit on a brick… _

“Are you telling me,” Cate croaked out, staring wide eyed at Charity, “that you went to  _ Live Aid _ as part of your  _ muggle immersion program? _ ”

“Yes! Live Aid, that’s the one.” Charity looked pleased. “Some kind of benefit concert wasn’t it, aye?”

“Charity Burbage,” Cate said solemnly, “you are my hero. Tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for now. I have one more chapter completely written. Quarantine and working from home has been a hell of a writers block period but I'm hoping to get chapter 6 finished soon and move on. We are still several chapters away from Book 3 canon, but we're getting there!


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cate has dinner with the fam, then drinks with friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4th of July to all my fellow Americans. May our country one day be what it claims to represent.
> 
> That's all I'm gonna say about that.
> 
> Once again, I own nothing you recognize.
> 
> I am also very grateful for my betas.

_ Sunday, July 18th, 1993, Hart’s Field Manor, Berkshire, England _

“Cate! Come see! We got a new owl!” 

Cate let out a soft “Oof.” as her young cousin collided with her as she stepped out of the floo. “Grim. Hi.” She stumbled a bit as he moved from hugging her about the waist to tugging her by the arms towards the hallway door. 

“_ We _ didn’t get a new owl, _ I _ got a new owl.” Sullivan said from the doorway, scowling briefly at his younger brother before turning to Cate with a smile. “Hi Cate!”

“Hi Sully,” Cate said as she gently pulled Grim to walk calmly with her towards the door where his brother stood. “Where’s your mom?”

“Mum’s in the music room, Dad’s in the kitchen with Perry, and Granddad is in the study upstairs. I’ll go tell Mum you’re here!” Sully turned and ran in the direction of the music room, leaving her with his younger brother who had resumed tugging her arm as he tried to quicken her movements towards the door.

“C’mon Cate, you can meet Llewellyn.” Grim said as he pulled Cate out into the hallway, to the left and out the door to the path leading to the fields and stables.

Just outside the door and to the right, about ten feet from the side of the manor, was a lovely crabapple tree. In its branches, slept a young adult long-eared owl with speckled feathers. It was a very handsome owl.

“Oh, what a lovely owl.” Cate said smiling, “Did Sully name him or did you.”

Grim sighed, “Sully got to name him because he’s taking him to Hogwarts first. He’s supposed to belong to both of us, but I’m not going to Hogwarts yet so Sully is acting like Llewellyn is just his.” He paused and then looked up at her with earnest blue eyes, “But I do like the name Sully picked, I don’t mind it. Sully named him after a quidditch player, Dangerous Dai Llewellyn, and it’s a pretty good name.”

“It’s a fantastic name,” Cate said, and decided not to mention that she had no idea who Dangerous Dai Llewellyn was. Her favorite players were more along the lines of Max Brankovitch of the Fitchburg Finches and Genessee Tekakwitha, who was the first Native American player in the MACUSA league. “Now, I think Llewellyn is enjoying his nap, so why don’t we go find your mom and Sully?”

As they stepped back in through the side door into the hallway, they were met by Lucy and Sully walking toward them.

“Cate, good you’re here. I should go check on Marshall and the elves and see if dinner is ready.” They turned heading down the hall leading toward the vestibule where Lucy paused at the foot of the main staircase leading up. “Cate, why don’t you go up to the study and fetch Randal. Boys, you should go wash up. I’m sure dinner will be ready now.” She turned to walk down a side hallway, then stopped again to say, “Cate, if you go to the portrait room and take the hallway to the left, the study will be the first door on the left. The boys will show you, their room is at the end of the hall.” She then disappeared down the side hall leaving Cate to follow her young cousins up the stairs.

A few minutes later, Cate knocked on the door to the study. She heard a gruff “Come in.” and entered.

Randal was sitting in a large, comfortable chair by a fireplace, a book in his hand. He looked up at Cate’s entrance and waved her over. “Have a seat my dear.” Randal motioned to the chair across from him. “I’m reading your book.”

Cate started, looking from Randal to the book in his hand, then sat down. He was reading her second book, the same one Dumbledore and Charity had read. _ The Might of Magic and _ _ Übermensch _ _ : A History of Grindelwald and Hitler and the politics of genocide _ had been her thesis for her Magical History Mastery. Cate had another book that had been her thesis for Runes, but this one had been the one she was most passionate about. She wondered how far into the book he was, if he’d gotten as far as _ that _ chapter, and shifted uncomfortably. She’d stuck to the facts when writing, she was a historian not a novelist, but it was still awkward.

“I was five years old when my father became the Minister for Magic. Your grandfather was fifteen, he understood much more about what was happening then than I did at the time. However,” Randal placed a bookmark to mark his place then sent the book on the table beside him. “I was nineteen when he was forced out of office. I understood much more of the situation then.” He eyed Cate consideringly. “You were rather… kind compared to some other authors. Most modern journalists and writers portray him as a fool, an old, puffed up ostrich sticking his head in the sand. You… you made him human.”

“Great-Grandad Hector, Magical Britain’s very own Neville Chamberlain.” Cate sighed. 

“Yes, I saw where you compared him to the muggle prime minister of the time.” Randal said, “I think you were right in that my father, your great-grandfather, wished to keep Britain out of the war at all costs because he was afraid of causing an outbreak of civil war due to the division in Britain over Grindelwald’s agenda. You see,” Randal stared into the fire with a frown, “We had many arguments over it in this house. Roland and Father could barely get through a Sunday dinner without fighting over what Roland perceived as our father’s willful blindness to Grindelwald’s infiltration into England. Some of his closest advisors were from Britain’s pureblood families or had cousins in Britain.”

“He wanted peace, he wanted to keep magical Britain from being involved in a war that would highlight the fractures present in its society, potentially causing a breakdown in the government due to the division in the Wizengamot.” Cate nodded toward the book, “I didn’t spend as much time on Britain’s role during Grindelwald’s rise, I was focused mainly on comparing his march through Europe to the Nazi blitzkrieg, but I would like to revisit it someday. I’ve thought about writing a biography of Great-Grandad’s time as minister.”

Randal raised an eyebrow, “If you ever decide to do it, I have his journals. They might be of some help to you.”

Cate’s words of thanks were interrupted by Sullivan who had opened the door to inform them that dinner was ready and would they please join the family in the dining hall.

When they arrived downstairs, they were greeted by Lucy and Marshall and a tiny elderly house elf in a clean, blue pillowcase who was attempting to set the dining room table while simultaneously trying to prevent Lucy from helping in anyway as Marshall stood to the side attempting to keep a straight face.

“Mistress Lucy will _ sit _ and let Cherry do _ Cherry’s job _!” The tiny elf insisted as she snapped her fingers and the silverware in Lucy’s hands was suddenly on the table. Marshall choked on a laugh and turned to hide a smile. Cate noted as he did that there were circles under his eyes, as if he had not been sleeping much.

“Sixteen years since she joined the family and she still tries. Cherry is a stubborn elf though,” Randal said fondly as he passed Cate to pat Lucy on the shoulder before taking a seat at one end of the table. They all moved to take their seats as the meal appeared on the table and the smell of rosemary and lemon roasted chicken, roasted small potatoes, and yorkshire pudding wafted through the air. Marshall took his seat at the opposite end of the table, Lucy to his right with Cate beside her and the boys across from them. Lucy turned to the small house elf who was staring at Cate. “Thank you Cherry, we will serve ourselves. You can go eat with your husband.” Cherry tore her eyes away from Cate and nodded at Lucy before disapparating.

“Well, I am very glad we are all here.” Randal said with a smile as his gaze roved over the table. “Especially since it is Cate’s first family dinner with us, I was worried you wouldn’t be able to join us with how busy you’ve been, Marshall. I’m glad the ministry was able to spare you for a day.”

Marshall sighed and leaned back in his chair as Lucy began to pass the salad and potatoes around. “Yes, well, Lucy has been very firm about my being home on Sundays even if I am working through the weekends.” 

“You are not allowed to work yourself into St. Mungo’s, Marshall,” Lucy responded sternly. “I will not have it. I understand the situation is dire, but you need to take care of yourself.”

Cate once again noted how pale and tired Marshall looked. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever asked when I was first here. What is it that you do, Marshall?”

It was Randal who answered, “Marshall here is a chief prosecutor for magic, working with the ministry’s magical law office.” He paused to eye Cate from over the rim of his glass, “I’m sure you’ve been reading the Prophet and can guess as to why that particular job might be overburdened at the moment.”

Cate turned wide eyed toward her cousin. 

“The DMLE’s aurors are working much harder than we are.” Marshall said softly, “They aren’t able to go home for Sunday roast when their wives request it.”

Lucy cut in sharply, “But we are not discussing it. Not at this table.” She looked meaningfully from her husband to their sons who were listening intently, eyes as wide as Cate’s own.

Cate cleared her throat and in an attempt to cut through the tension, began to tell them about her tour of Hogsmeade village with Charity.

“Ah, yes. Good old Hogsmeade. Marianne and I had our first date there.” Randal’s eyes seemed to take on a glassy appearance as he smiled at some fond memory of his late wife. Lucy laughed and informed Cate that, “Hogsmeade is a common thread in many alumni romance stories.”

“Did you and Marshall have many dates there?” Cate asked.

Lucy chuckled again as she stood and began carving into the chicken. “Heavens no! Marshall and I didn’t start dating until a few years after I graduated. He was a bit too hung up on my friend Amelia in school.” She began serving up the food and a fair amount was placed on each plate. “Marshall was best friends with her brother, Edgar Bones, and they dated for a while but broke up a few years after Hogwarts.”

“So, how did the two of you end up together?” Cate asked.

“Lucy and I became reacquainted when my friend Edgar married her best friend Hera Jones.” Marshall paused and took a sip of water before continuing. “We were both in their wedding party and things just progressed from there.” 

The family settled down to eat, conversation flowing as Cate learned that Sullivan was hoping to be in either Ravenclaw like his dad, or Hufflepuff like his mother. “Well, you should be in luck.” Randal interjected, “Most Fawleys are either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Of course your grandmother was a Gryffindor so don’t count that one out either.”

By the end of dinner, Cate was full of food and warm emotions. Laughter and stories flowed easily and she found herself sharing stories of her childhood in South Dakota.

“So Kimi and I were thirteen, almost fourteen. Kimi had this crush on Mika, one of the other students from the reservation magical school she attended. He was a chaser on the quidditch team and Kimi was just… head over heels.”

“Ew.” Sully interjected, face scrunched up in disgust. Grim nodded in agreement at his side.

“Yes, well,” Cate laughed, “Kimi convinced me to sneak out with her to meet up with Mika and his friends. Of course, we didn’t know what the group was planning on doing.” She paused to take a sip of her drink, “There’s something that the no-maj teens in our area do for kicks, it’s called cow-tipping. Sneak out into a pasture and tip the cows over while they sleep. Mika and his crew were sneaking out to do something similar but they had us all sneak into the Plains Magical Creature Conservatory where a herd of white bison lives and start tipping over the bison.”

“But that’s mean!” Grim cried.

“Yes, it was not very kind,” Cate agreed. “Mika and two boys tipped over a mother bison first and her calf started panicking. Kimi became so upset she punched Mika in the face. Then she started shouting at him which startled the rest of the herd which was already on edge because of the bleating calf.”

“Oh no,” Lucy gasped. “Did they…?”

“Cate nodded, “They started stampeding and we grabbed our brooms and took off, but of course we were caught by the keepers. Kimi and I were both given two months community service as volunteers at the conservatory.” Cate grinned, “And that was how my friend Kimi decided she was going to be a magizoologist. She’s a keeper and veterinarian at the same conservatory now.”

“Isolde must have been very upset.”

Cate nodded, “Mum was furious.’ She paused and looked down, feeling ashamed as she always did when she thought about what her mother had been going through while she had been rebelling against her that year. “I didn’t know it then, I didn’t find out until almost six months later that the reason I’d been staying at Kimi’s house that weekend was because she and John-Dad had gone to see a specialist in Chicago.”

“What’s a specialist?” Grim asked.

“It’s a healer who is really good at treating specific illnesses.” Cate answered, then glanced at Lucy to gauge whether or not the mother was ok with her continuing this conversation. Lucy gave her a reassuring look and nodded her head. “Mum went to see a healer who specialized in severe spell and potion damage. They found out that weekend that she was entering the late stage of magical trauma induced organ decay.” Cate turned to the boys and clarified. “She was really sick and not going to live much longer.”

Grim and Sully both nodded their heads solemnly. Lucy had tears in her eyes as she reached out to take Cate’s hand. It was Randal who spoke, “I’d assumed it was an accident that took her so young, but it makes sense now when I think about what you told me this past week. She must have been ignoring the early symptoms for some time.”

“I think she just hoped that she was wrong and that infertility was the only thing…” Cate sighed. “The treatments her doctor put her on kept her going for another two years, but her last six months were… hard.” She stopped and looked around at her family. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Lucy squeezed her hand and smiled sadly. After that, the mood became somber and introspective and the adults moved to the family sitting room on the second floor while the boys were sent to bathe and get ready for bed. The discussion among the adults turned from past to present and Marshall’s work with the DMLE in the hunt for Sirius Black. 

“I can’t say anything, Dad. I don’t know why you keep asking.” Marshall sighed and took a sip of his firewhiskey. Randal snorted and raised an eyebrow, “I just want to know why you’re so stressed and why you almost got into a fight with Barty Crouch in front of witnesses the other day.”

“You heard about that? How?” Marshall asked harshly as Lucy exclaimed, “Marshall!”

Cate raised an eyebrow and looked from Randal to her cousin. Knowing how her mother had been about public arguments, she guessed that fighting with a coworker in public was considered out of character for a Fawley. 

Randal laughed, “I have friends in the ministry, son, and you weren’t exactly discreet when you marched over to the Department of International Magical Cooperation in a state.”

His son took a slow sip from the tumbler in his hand, sighed, then tilted his head back. “He’s been ignoring my messages. We…” Marshall paused and rubbed his hand over his forehead before looking around at Lucy and Cate helplessly. “I really shouldn’t say anything, Dad.”

Randal’s demeanor changed, his face taking on a serious, concerned look. “Is it as bad as that then?” He asked, leaning forward. Marshall nodded behind the hand pressed to his forehead, and finally said, “We can’t find Black’s trial records.” He dropped his hand. “That is all I’m going to say. I’m certain, Sir, that you can guess from that, what kind of trouble we in the DMLE might find ourselves in legally if we don’t have Black’s trial records when he is found.”

“If there are no trial records, how was he sentenced to Azkaban in the first place? Was he ever found guilty?” Cate interjected, asking the questions she knew would be asked if this information became public knowledge. Her mind whirred with the implications of it. How many opportunities could this give Black to escape? If he had to be brought to trial again, it could give him another window of opportunity to run for it. “If you don’t have a record of a trial, then you might have to hold one when he is caught.”

Randal was frowning into his glass of brandy. “It is possible, and I know this will do you no good to hear, Marshall, but it is possible that Black was sent to prison without trial.”

Silence reigned as the other three people in the room tried to process what the older man had said. Randal continued, “It was chaos then, you remember don’t you? Marshall, you were a junior prosecutor at the time. I’m sure you remember.”

Marshall nodded as he rubbed his hand across his forehead again. Lucy took a shaky breath and stood. “I’m going to go check on the boys.”

After Lucy left the room, Randal leaned forward and said seriously, “No one doubts that Black is guilty now, and no one doubted it then. The likelihood of him being sent to Azkaban without a trial at the time is very high.”

“It would definitely explain why Crouch is ignoring me.” Marshall said tersely. “Regardless, I don’t think I need to stress to you that this conversation does not leave this room.”

“Of course.” Cate said as she stood. “I have no intention of saying anything.” She turned to her uncle, “I have to go, I’m supposed to be meeting friends tonight, but I would like to thank you for having me.” 

“Oh,” Randal said in surprise. “I hope you’ll be able to join us next week?”

Cate smiled and moved to give her great-uncle a hug, “Not next week, I’ll be in Chicago, but the Sunday after definitely.”

“Chicago!” Randal exclaimed as he stood. “Why are you going to Chicago?”

“My book that I co-wrote with another historian is being released. My publisher is having a release party.” Cate said happily. The book she’d written with Onawa Littlefeather was important to her and Onawa for many reasons. For Cate, just the fact that she’d had the opportunity to co-write with one of her idols was enough to make her float.

“Well, I look forward to reading this one as well.” Randal gave her a kiss on the cheek and Cate turned and stretched out her hand to Marshall.

“Good luck. Listen to your wife and try not to work yourself to death.”

Marshall’s smile was distracted, his thoughts obviously still with the theory his father had suggested. “I’ll make no promises, but thank you.” He shook her hand and then excused himself to the study.

After saying goodbye to the boys as they were being sent off to bed, Cate walked with Lucy down to the floo room.

“This… situation with Black.” Lucy paused, “I’m so worried for him, Cate. He’s not sleeping, not enough, and I can barely get him out of the office.”

Cate gave Lucy a sympathetic hug. “I know. Hopefully, they will catch him soon and you won’t need to worry anymore.”

“Thank you for coming tonight.” Lucy hugged Cate tightly, “I don’t know if you realize it, but it means a lot to Randal that you’re a part of the family. That we’re getting to know you.”

“It means a lot to me too.”

A few more words between them and then Cate stepped through the floo into her drawing room at Hart’s Place. A glance at the clock told her that it was 8:30pm. Cate looked down at her beige pencil skirt and white poet blouse, she had an hour before she was supposed to meet Charity and her girlfriend for drinks. Might as well change.

As she turned to head upstairs she saw Killy waiting on his stand near the open window with two letters secured to his claw. Cate took them from him to find replies from Kimi and Healer Cohen.

She decided to check Simera’s first, and opened it to find that the mind-healer did not have an appointment available on Saturday and even if she had she would not have advised a session right before Cate’s book release party. 

_ You said it yourself, you’re experiencing a lot of new feelings being in the UK and this will probably be an emotional session for you. How about we meet on Sunday? I don’t normally take magical clients at the Rainbow Clinic, but I have time between my group sessions and I know you will be leaving on Monday. 1pm alright? _

Cate chewed her lip thoughtfully then set the letter aside. Simera had a point. Cate had been more on edge than she had been in a long time since arriving in the UK. Spending time getting to know her family and making friends with Charity Burbage seemed to be helping, but there was still so much. She felt awkward about taking up a slot at Rainbow Clinic even though Sim had been the one to suggest it. Simera’s community social work project on the South Side of Chicago was entirely funded by her regular practice in Aurora where Cate had been seeing her since she was 16. Healer Cohen saw both magical and non-magical clients at Cohen Mental Health, but Rainbow Clinic was off limits to magicals unless they met a certain criteria. 

She’d send a reply in the morning accepting the 1pm slot.

Cate opened Kimi’s letter next, anticipation running through her. She'd invited her best friend to be a guest at her book release and she hoped Kim would be able to come.

_ Cate, _

_ I’d love to come to the book release! I’ll talk to your Dad about portkey-ing to Chicago together. I’m so excited to see you, you have to tell me everything about England and how you’re settling in. What’s the house like? What’s your family like? _

_ Things at the conservatory have been going well, we think Belinda might be having a baby but she’s hidden the egg from us. We’re placing bets on where she may have hidden it, I think it may be in the little underwater cave at the bend in the river. _

_ I have not agreed to go on a date with Ethan. I’m too busy and also, it’s a bad idea to date someone you work with. I swore I was never making that mistake again. _

_ Speaking of dates… would you be upset with me if I brought Mato along? It’s just that I told him about it and he is still your friend even though you broke up and I think he’d really like to be there. _

_ But if you don’t want him to come, just say so and I won’t bring it up again. _

_ Much love, _

_ Kimi _

Cate sighed and set the letter down before rubbing her eyes. _ It can wait till tomorrow _, she decided and headed up to her room to change.

* * *

An hour later, comfortably attired in brown boots, her favorite denims with a Pine Ridge Buffalo quidditch t-shirt and an open black robe, Cate apparated onto the street in Hogsmeade village and walked into the Three Broomsticks. It was a Sunday night in the summer and the pub was crowded. Cate pushed her way passed a group of rowdy wizards and made her way to the corner booth where Charity sat with a very pretty, athletic looking, ebony skinned woman with a small afro wearing purple, green and black plaid pants and a black t-shirt with a logo for a band called the Weird Sisters.

“Cate! You made it!” Charity called happily as she raised her glass of firewhiskey in salutation. “How was Sunday roast with the fam?”

“It was great! I’m looking forward to having my little cousin in class this year.” Cate replied as she slipped into the booth across from the two witches. She turned towards the other woman and stuck her hand out as she said, “Hi, I’m Cate.”

“Marcy Sykes,” The other woman replied, shaking Cate’s hand vigorously. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Aye,” Charity exclaimed, throwing her arm over Marcy’s shoulder with a proud grin. “This is wor lass. A propa bonnie lassie she is too.”

Marcy rolled her eyes. “You’re drunk, Luv.” She said as she pushed Charity’s arm off of her shoulders, but she then clasped Charity’s hand in hers before placing a quick peck on her cheek.

“Charity told me you play quidditch?” 

Marcy nodded in response to Cate’s question, “Beater for the Harpies. Mum wasn’t too happy about it, she wanted me to go work in the ministry or something like that, but Da just said that every generation of Sykes needs to have at least one person that makes their living on a broom,” She grinned, dark eyes twinkling. “Flying is in the blood for us Sykes.”

Charity chimed in, “Marcy’s uncle was a quidditch player for the Arrows, and she’s related to Jocunda Sykes.”

Cate’s eyebrows hit her hairline at that, “The first witch to cross the Atlantic on a broomstick?”

“Aye,” Marcy replied. “She’s my Great-aunt.”

“Marcy’s her favorite. Old Jo bloody well loves her,” Charity took a swig of her drink. “Think she right likes me too.”

“Yes, well,” Marcy interjected. “I think that has more to do with the fact that I’m the first witch in the family to come out as gay since Aunt Jo eloped with Aurora Greengrass in 1940.”

“W-what?” Cate laughed. “That sounds like a hell of a story!”

“It is that,” Charity said before Marcy could respond. “But before Marcy tells it, we need to get you a drink. OY, ROSIE!”


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude with Dumbledore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... this chapter could either be considered 3 weeks late or 1 week early, depending on how you look at it. I had to travel back to Asia at the beginning of August... so I didn't get it posted at the beginning of the month. Bit short but some important conversation happening.  
Enjoy!

_ Thursday, July 22nd, 1993, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland _

“God and Merlin... Is this really your schedule? Cate, you’ve hardly got any prep time,” Charity’s horrified voice cut through the haze of fifth year curriculum Cate found herself in. She looked up at the parchment with her teaching schedule that Charity was waving around. 

“It’s not that bad,” Cate said slowly. “Last year, when I was teaching in Baton Rouge, I think I had one free block every other day. Here I’ve got two free blocks on Monday and Tuesday and one free block the other days.”

Charity dropped the parchment on the table, “Haddaway and shite! Merlin’s  _ pants _ lass, what were ya doin at that school that ya had so little prep time?”

“Well, I had three sections of Runes classes on top of my History classes instead of two,” Cate picked the schedule up to show Charity. “Here, I only have two sections of Runes.”

The schedule was not bad, all things considered. Cate was used to being busy, she’d been overwhelmed her first year of teaching in Baton Rouge, and the schedule at Hogwarts felt almost freeing in comparison. History of Magic was split into sections A and B, with two houses being paired up for each section, up until sixth year. After OWLS, students were allowed to drop any course that they didn’t absolutely need, including History. As History NEWTS were only really required for those going into politics and government work or planning on becoming historians themselves, it was typical for most schools to have only one History section for sixth and seventh year students. It was a testament to how boring students at Hogwarts had found the subject under her predecessor that the class size for sixth and seventh year was so small. 

“This explains why you’re not enjoying your summer,” Charity said with a glum face.

“I’m enjoying my summer,” Cate replied defensively. “Just because I spend my mornings going over lesson plans doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying running all over the British Isles with you in the afternoons.” She stood up from her desk and stretched her arms over her head. “Besides, I’m only working on the History of Magic curriculum. I’m going to use Bathsheda’s lesson plans for third and fourth year Runes, we’ve already discussed it. It makes more sense to provide them with that continuity since I’ll only be teaching the class for two years.”

“Well, do you feel like taking a break now? I’m guessing you haven’t eaten yet and it’s already half past one.” Charity had already begun to pick up on Cate’s habit of forgetting to eat if she got too lost in her work. After she’d witnessed it on Monday and Tuesday, a snack of apples and cucumber sandwiches had appeared on Cate’s desk at noon on Wednesday.

“Is it that time already? Oh shit, I’ve got to meet Bathsheda and Dumbledore in the entrance hall.” Cate moved quickly towards the door. “Hey now,” Charity grabbed her arm to slow her down. “What are you meeting them for?”

“We’re shoring up the wards around the castle grounds,” Cate replied as she turned to grab her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Oy, not without eating something you’re not. Here,” Charity shoved an apple and a slightly squashed pumpkin pasty into her hands. “Eat that to tide you through, then we’ll go get some lunch after.”

Cate ate hurriedly and then rushed through the castle, down to the entrance hall where Professor Babbling, Dumbledore, and a very small wizard stood waiting. “Sorry! So sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting long?”

“Not at all, my dear,” Albus said, eyes twinkling. “Filius here just arrived. Filius, this is Professor Cateline Fawley. She’ll be teaching History of Magic and the third and fourth year Runes classes. Cate, this is Filius Flitwick, our charms professor and head of Ravenclaw house.”

Cate took the small man’s hand with a smile, “My cousin Marshall has many fond memories of you, Professor Flitwick.”

“Oh yes, I remember Marshall well. Such a wonderful student. He was a prefect, should have been made head boy in my opinion,” He aimed a teasing glare at the headmaster.

Dumbledore waved a hand airily. “I’m not the only person who makes that decision, Filius, you know that. I don’t know why you insist on blaming me.”

As they all started walking toward the boundary of the school grounds, Cate fell into step with Bathsheda. 

“I read that article you gave me.”

“Did you?” Bathsheda asked with a smile. “What did you think?”

“I think I’d like to introduce your friend to Professor Lacroix and his team in Ontario.”

“I’ve heard that name before,” Bathsheda said thoughtfully as they approached the gates. “He’s the researcher working on reviving pictographic runes?”

“Yes, they’re a part of a group that is working on reviving the indigenous magics that were banned. Are technically still banned under MACUSA laws actually…” Cate replied, thinking about what John-Dad had told her about what NAWC was doing.

“Yes, Sanskrit runes and native language spells were suppressed in India as well, but I think the British wizards were less able to enforce it in India as MACUSA was in the American First nations.”

“Are you planning on using pictographic runes today, Ms. Fawley?”

Cate looked forward to where Dumbledore was watching them, obviously having been listening to their conversation. “I was thinking of a few protective pictographs actually. They’re not commonly known outside of academic and Native American circles. Even if Mr. Black had been a runes prodigy, there’s no way he’d know what to look for.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled and he chuckled before nodding. “No, I don’t suppose he would.”

* * *

An hour later, Cate sat back on her heels and let out a breath as she contemplated the last piece of her spellwork. The anti-apparition spells that prevented anyone other than the headmaster from apparating in and out of the grounds had been wearing thin, so Dumbledore had taken on the work of repairing and reinforcing them. It was decided that various shielding spells could be used to cover the property and so Flitwick and Bathsheda had set about putting them in place, Flitwick casting the needed incantations as Bathsheda bound them in place with rune stones. Cate was left to do her own spellwork and so she had used the old spell John-Dad had shown her as a child, the one he’d used to place over their own house back in South Dakota to keep her mother’s anxiety at bay. She anchored it to rune stones carved with a single arrow above two arrowheads facing each other. Protection and warding against evil. 6 stones encircling the grounds. Cate set the final stone in place with her left hand as she waved her wand with her right, muttering the spell one last time, and breathed in the scent of ozone as the stone flared a moment. She closed her eyes and felt the protective ward stretch to completely encircle the school grounds.

“What does it do, exactly? The spell you’ve used?”

Cate started and turned to look back at Dumbledore where he stood contemplating her from a few feet away. She slowly stood, wiping the sweat off her forehead as she answered him. “It prevents anyone with ill-intent from entering the grounds. Anyone seeking to do bodily harm to someone within the grounds will not be able to pass the boundaries.”

Dumbledore hummed in understanding as he cast a thoughtful gaze over her work. “Can it be tricked into letting someone through? Or would they have to dismantle it?”

“There are definitely loopholes. The spell prevents anyone entering who has the intention of doing physical harm to someone inside. If the individual changes their intention from causing harm to talking to the person instead, then they will be let through. If a person recognizes what ward they’ve come up against, they could in a sense ‘trick the ward’ if they tried hard enough.”

The elder wizard stretched out a hand to help Cate up. “In that case you are definitely relying on Sirius Black’s lack of knowledge surrounding Native American enchantments. A risk, but I believe the odds are in your favor there.” 

“Yes, well,” Cate began, bending to brush the dirt off her jeans. “If we’re going to take risks, better make them calculated ones.” She straightened up to frown at her boss. “Is that why you’re forcing a connection between Mr. Lupin and I? So that I can learn enough about Black to make the right choices in chasing him?”

“My dear girl,” Albus raised his eyebrows and held his arm out to her. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

Cate took the offered arm and they started walking back to meet the others. “Telling me about Lupin's connection to Black could have been explained away as just answering my question about why Snape was so angry that you’d hired him. Telling me about his condition though?” She gave him a look, daring him to contradict her. “No, that was something else entirely. It took me a while, but I think you’re trying to force the two of us into trusting each other. Relying on each other. Telling me his deepest darkest secret? Have you told him you did that?”

“Yes I did. I informed Remus that I had felt that it might be good for us to have an extra person, besides Severus, Minerva, Poppy and myself, who could assist with his particular condition should anything happen. You have said yourself you do not have any problems with werewolves as long as they take precautions not to hurt anyone.” He stopped and turned to look at her. “In the conversations we have had, you have shown you are dedicated to the safety of the children you teach. I presented you to Remus as an extra piece to his safety plan. He was a bit upset at first, but understood what I was trying to do in making sure that he had the help he needed to stay safe while teaching.”

Cate stared at him incredulously. “How does he put up with you making decisions for him like that? I’d have hexed you into next week.”

Dumbledore chuckled, “Yes, well, therein lies the difference between you. Remus trusts my judgment. You, my dear, do not.”

Cate took a deep breath and then exhaled, frowning. Point to him then. Dumbledore 1, Cate 0…this round. She wondered absently if she’d ever actually won any of the previous rounds. 

_ Then again, why am I so invested in clashing with him when we’ve got bigger fish to fry right now? _

Her mother’s face came to mind suddenly, twisted with pain and anger. She had often wondered why her mother had chosen to lay the blame for what had happened at Dumbledore’s door when the man was a schoolmaster. There were a lot of things her mother had done that she’d often wondered about but her mother’s one sided hatred of Albus Dumbledore was one of the crazier ones. It had lessened to an almost tranquil ambivalence once her mother started seeing a mind healer during her illness, but 14 years of most likely misplaced anger had left its mark. 

Cate had no intention of trusting the old man, but she would try to work with him.

“When you return from Chicago, I would like for you to meet with Remus. The two of you should get to know one another.” Dumbledore’s tone had turned grave and his eyes were like blue steel with ne’er a twinkle to be seen. Cate was once again impressed by his ability to shed the kind grandfather exterior like a mask that was covering this underlayer of… she wasn’t sure what to call this version of Dumbledore yet but she had seen it enough to wonder which version was the real wizard.

Dumbledore continued, “It will also give the two of you an opportunity to run down some leads. My contacts in the ministry have informed me of some of the leads they’ve been chasing. I want you to take Remus, see if he can find something they couldn’t. His knowledge of Black might help uncover something they wouldn’t have known to look for.”

Cate stopped and waited for Dumbledore to pause and turn to look at her before narrowing her eyes at him, “I would like to remind you, Headmaster, that Remus and I are teachers. At best, I’m a historian and he’s a defense expert. We are not aurors.” She held up a hand to stop Dumbledore from interrupting her. “I know that I told you that it was my intention to try to find Black, and I am grateful that you are providing me with the assistance of someone who can guide me in the right direction. I do not doubt my skills as a researcher and analyst are sufficient in searching for information, but if I am going out into the field where I could actually run into the criminal I am searching for... even with Remus at my side, we need someone with the proper authority and credentials for this sort of work. Auror, retired auror, private investigator, someone who has the training and authority to put the restraints on him and take him in to the DMLE.” Cate lowered her hand. “I’m done.”

Dumbledore was looking at her with a weird sort of smile, “It’s a fair point. I must confess that I had been intending on running this the way we did with the Order during the war. As out of the ministry’s hands as possible.” His eyes clouded as he seemed to be remembering a time when he and his Order of the Phoenix ran a guerilla war against the death eaters that were trying to take over the government. “But perhaps I can provide your investigation with the sort of legitimacy you seek while keeping it’s secrecy. A few of our former order members are aurors. I’ll talk to them.”

At that point, they were interrupted by the arrival of Bathsheda and Filius coming from the opposite side of the grounds.

“Cate, I saw your runestone near the quidditch pitch boundary. I made sure Filius and I anchored our spells the appropriate distance away so as not to interfere.” The older witch said as she came up beside Cate and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Thanks, I guess we should have discussed where our runes needed to go beforehand…” Cate replied, sheepishly.

Bathsheda shrugged, “Not necessarily. We’re both professional enough to take the proper precautions. Now why don’t we head back? I don’t know about you all, but I’ve worked up an appetite!”

Cate’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly and they all chuckled as they turned and headed back up to the castle where Charity was waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This upload is going to count for both August and September and the next chapter will be posted first Friday in October.  
Hope everyone is safe and well!


End file.
